


After A Storm

by swampslip



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bathing/Washing, Dom Arthur, Hookups, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Subspace, Tenderness, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unresolved Sexual Tension, first time bdsm, i can't fucking BELIEVE, not arthur, tired ben affleck meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: “... Can you tell me what happened?”“... Do you really wanna know?”“John… I’m worried, alright? You’re all… Soft, and strange.”“I- I’ve been… Messin’ around,” John says slowly, not meeting Arthur’s eyes, “Tryin’ things.”“... Okay.”“Keep endin’ up with people who… Just- They don’t work for me,” John mutters, “Then I got talkin’ to this fella and he and I shared… Interests.”“Okay,” Arthur says again, a bit more hoarse.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 24
Kudos: 87





	After A Storm

**Author's Note:**

> this is directly in response to shite bdsm doms in fic lmao

John closes the door behind him and has to look at the ground to double-check that he is, in fact, standing on it.

He feels floaty, and he knows there's no way three beers got him like this.

He pulls his keys out of his pocket and stares at them for a moment, then slowly walks forward and swings around the railing. 

Sitting on the concrete steps that lead to the upper levels of the apartments. 

He puts his keys away, after another silent moment of staring, when he doesn't remember where his bike is parked.

John swallows thickly and grimaces at the lingering taste of come in his mouth.

His phone is in his hand. 

Open to Arthur's contact. 

_John: can you come get me? dont feel safe driving_

He stares at his phone until it buzzes. 

_Arthur: Where are you?_

_Arthur: Thought you were over this, quit drinking so much_

John feels shame course through him and he hesitates. 

Maybe he can drive…?

But now Arthur knows and the older man would be mad if he drove now.

He sends the address.

\-- 

Arthur circles the apartment twice, squinting at the numbers before he spots John on the curb. 

He pulls his truck into an open space and steps out when John looks up at him. 

John's eyes are red and watery and his lips are cracked. 

There are new bruises on his neck and Arthur feels fire in his gut. 

Angry, protective fire. 

He hurries over to John and helps the younger man up and John clings to him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" 

"... Can we go home?" John whispers then shrinks in on himself, hiding his face. 

"Hey, hey, _shh,"_ Arthur wraps his arm around John's shoulders and guides the younger man to the truck, "Johnny… Who did this?"

"What?" John asks hoarsely and his voice is ripped raw, like his throat is aching and Arthur's stomach turns wondering if it's from crying or more.

"Who hurt you?" Arthur asks thinly, "Who do I gotta-?"

"No- I…" John swallows loudly and shies away from him slightly as they near the passenger door, "Asked for it."

"... _Oh."_

"Feel drunk, though," John whispers, "Swear I didn't have that much."

"... You watch your drink?" Arthur asks cautiously and it's an assumption he's not often one to make, but he doesn't like the state of John. 

The purple of the bruises he can see.

The thought of the damage he can't.

"Yeah, opened all of 'em myself, not dumb," John whispers and Arthur sighs quietly, opens the door and nudges John into climbing in. 

"Where's your bike?" 

\-- 

John's quiet, on the way home, despite Arthur's gentle prompting. 

John's fidgeting with his long sleeves and shifting his legs and Arthur hasn't worked up the courage to ask if he's hurt elsewhere. 

He leaves John's bike in the bed of the truck and hovers as John walks inside their home. 

"You wanna… Take a bath or-?”

“Can I just…” John whispers, “Can I lay down for a minute?”

“You don’t gotta ask,” Arthur says slowly and lets go, watching John carefully as the younger man walks stiffly to the couch and lays down on his side, staring blankly at the black-screen of the tv. 

Arthur hesitates then heads to the kitchen and gets John a glass of water with a straw, bringing it back out and slowly walking over to John, lowering himself to kneel at John’s head. 

John’s gaze makes its way up to meet Arthur’s and the older man tries to smile lightly, tries to look reassuring. 

John just frowns at him in that hazy, confused way. 

“Can you drink a lil’ bit of this for me?” Arthur asks softly and lifts the glass up with the straw bent towards John’s mouth, letting the younger man choose. 

John blinks at the glass and shuffles forward, wrapping his lips around the straw and drinking slowly, glancing up at Arthur for approval. 

Arthur glances down at the bruises on John’s neck and a theory starts to pester him. 

“Need you to be honest with me, Johnny, you hurt?” Arthur whispers, “Real hurt? Need to call someone hurt?”

“No,” John whispers and pulls back from the water, “I… Sore, kinda, pro’ly gonna feel it tomorrow.”

Arthur grimaces lightly and reaches to set the glass on the coffee table, coming back to sit in front of John and sighing quietly. 

“What’d you get yourself into?”

John’s mouth pinches unhappily and he drops his gaze, rubbing at his face with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. 

“You eaten lately?” Arthur asks softly and looks down at his lap, rubbing his hands over some wear on his jeans, “Guess you left while I was at work?”

“No… And yeah,” John mutters, “Not hungry.”

“... Can you tell me what happened?”

“... Do you really wanna know?”

“John… I’m worried, alright? You’re all… Soft, and strange.”

“I- I’ve been… Messin’ around,” John says slowly, not meeting Arthur’s eyes, “Tryin’ things.”

“... Okay.”

“Keep endin’ up with people who… Just- They don’t work for me,” John mutters, “Then I got talkin’ to this fella and he and I shared… Interests.”

“Okay,” Arthur says again, a bit more hoarse. 

“He’s got experience in some of the… The things I wanted to try and he- We-” John licks his chapped lips and hesitates, “It was fine, all of it, good even.”

“... You- Was he a Dom?” Arthur asks, struggling a bit through asking that with a steady voice. 

John blinks and very slowly nods, avoiding Arthur’s eyes. 

“Alright, and he took good care of you?” 

“He… Did everythin’ I asked?”

“... But did- After that, did he…” Arthur sighs and rubs his face roughly, “John, did he give you aftercare? Ease you outta it?”

“... No?” John frowns again and stretches out with a grimace, “Wasn’t part of the deal.”

“What was the deal?”

“Arthur- Jesus, the deal was he fucked me and called me mean shit and hurt me and made me come, then I left.”

Arthur swallows roughly and grabs the water, bringing it back to John. 

“Drink,” Arthur mutters roughly and watches John closely. 

John stares at the glass, then Arthur, then closes his eyes and leans in to finish the other half of the water. 

“You don’t deserve that,” Arthur says slowly, “That kinda… Carelessness, you deserve whatever you want durin’ a scene and then someone to bring you back up, back to normal, remind you that you’re not any… Any kinda derogatory thing you might get off on in the moment.”

“Didn’t realize you knew ‘bout this shit,” John mutters when he finishes drinking and lays down roughly, staring at Arthur’s chest. 

“... Know enough.”

“Guess I don’t,” John whispers, “Feel like shit.”

“I… More than physically, right?” Arthur asks gently, “Like you deserved that mean shit, not cause you asked but cause it was true?”

John doesn’t answer but Arthur watches the tight skin around the scars wrinkle as John’s expression scrunches up unhappily. 

“You don’t, okay?” Arthur whispers, “Whatever he said to you, s’not true, you don’t deserve any kind of pain, if you want it, that’s fine, but it shouldn’t make you feel bad ‘bout yourself.”

“Maybe I shoulda just asked you,” John mutters. 

“... Ask me for this.”

“What?”

“Ask me to take care of you,” Arthur says hoarsely, “Ask me to pick up that piece of shit’s slack.”

John stares at the middle of Arthur’s chest then closes his eyes, his cheeks flushing. 

“Art…” John whispers, “Take care of me?”

Arthur shifts up onto his knees and brushes John’s hair back, pressing a soft kiss to John’s forehead before standing up. 

“C’mon,” Arthur murmurs and holds his hands down to John. 

John sets his hands in Arthur’s and lets himself be pulled up, breathing out shakily when Arthur steadies him, tender hands on his waist and shoulder. 

John makes a small sound, shaky, quiet. 

“You wanna take a bath, darlin’?” Arthur asks and soothes his fingers up John’s neck, “Get somethin’ on these marks, get you healed up real quick.”

“Okay,” John murmurs and leans into the touch before Arthur switches to guiding him to the bathroom with an arm around John’s shoulders, going slow and easy. 

“I got you,” Arthur says gently as he encourages John to hop on onto the sink counter, moves his hands to John’s hip, the hem of the sweatshirt. 

“Can I take this off?”

John nods, slow and jerky then smoother and more readily. 

Arthur pulls the sweatshirt up and John lifts his arms to help as much as he can. 

“Cold,” John murmurs and bringing his arms back down, “The heat on?”

“Yeah, you want me to turn it up a bit?”

“... No, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Arthur asks and his fingertips skirt over a bitemark on John’s ribs, “We can find another way to keep you warm anyhow.”

John flusters and watches Arthur’s rough fingers as they stroke the tender skin below his nipple. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, low and promising, “Gonna run a bath, and get you clean, then we can go lay in my room and watch somethin’, let you snuggle up ‘gainst me and I’ll keep you warm, hm? Sound good?”

“... Please,” John whispers. 

“You’re such a good boy, Johnny,” Arthur murmurs and presses his lips to John’s crown, “Let me get this water heatin’ up.”

John’s reluctant to let Arthur pull away-

But he’s a _good boy,_ and he’ll be fine, Arthur’s here, he’s safe now. 

Arthur’ll take care of him. 

John watches, feeling a bit sleepy as the tub fills and Arthur comes back over and gently gets him standing. 

Takes off John’s pants and boxers just as gently, asking for permission with each action, then giving John simple tasks to keep him low. 

Easing him back up, returning his agency in gentle commands, loving praise. 

John’s not quite hard but he’s not soft, either, when Arthur’s hands are low on his back and he’s flushed and waiting to be told what to do next. 

“Need you to be honest,” Arthur murmurs, “Were you safe?”

“What?” John whispers, “A condom? Yeah.”

“Good,” Arthur hums and moves his hands to squeeze John’s waist, “Thank you.”

John makes a small sound of disbelief. 

“Mean it, John, want you safe, above anythin’ else,” Arthur says seriously and slowly guides John towards the bath, letting the younger man hold onto him as he climbs in. 

It’s a soaking bathtub, deep and long and they hardly ever use it, both preferring to shower. 

John hisses lightly at the sting, grimacing at the steaming water as he sinks in and pulls his legs close to his chest, the water just hitting under his chin and knees. 

“You okay?” Arthur asks gently and pulls down a washcloth and a bar of soap, lathering it roughly between his hands, “Too hot?”

“Bit-” John mutters, letting his head fall forward onto his knee, cheek to kneecap, watching Arthur. 

The washcloth feels good, rubbing over his shoulders, down his spine. 

Arthur’s hands are gentle as they coax the younger man in lifting his limbs and rubbing down them. 

Thorough, even to John’s fingers and toes. 

And John can only watch, a quiet curiosity bubbling in him. 

Arthur’s eyes lift and catch him staring, and Arthur’s head tilts gently, concerned. 

“What?” Arthur whispers. 

“Feels nice.”

“Oh,” Arthur exhales softly and rubs over the inside of John’s wrist soothingly, “Good, supposed to.”

“Do you… Like this?”

“Hm?”

“Takin’ care of me?” John asks slowly, “You were sayin’ it’s part of… Domination shit.”

Arthur snorts a rough laugh and shakes his head. 

“Alright,” Arthur murmurs, “How about this? Not in the way you’re thinkin’, _and_ I’m loanin’ you some books when you’re clear-headed again.”

John’s nose wrinkles and he goes to question further then shivers, as Arthur rubs over his ribcage, the bitemarks. 

“We’ll put somethin’ on these, too,” Arthur whispers, his bare thumb ghosting over a mark then moving away. 

Down. 

Arthur’s gentle, efficient, and John’s trying to hold back any sounds as the cloth and warm hands and warmer water all combine and Arthur’s leaning closer just a bit and John kinda wants to kiss him, as Arthur rubs tenderly over his inner thigh and politely ignores John’s hardness against his knuckles. 

“Arthur?”

“Hm?

“Can I ask somethin’?”

“... Yeah?”

“What’s all ‘takin’ care’ of me?”

And Arthur’s hand stills, moves away and the older man’s lips quirk to the side in thought. 

“It depends,” Arthur says gently, “On what you need.”

“... Do I need this?”

“Think so, yeah,” Arthur murmurs, “Think you need somethin’ a lil’ soft, it’s all ‘bout balancin’ things out. Why?”

“Why?” John echoes quietly, “I don’t know. You do, I guess.”

“Just curious?”

“I guess,” John says and blinks when Arthur’s hands start to lean him back, hold him up and shield his face and wet his hair and John inhales sharply but he trusts Arthur. 

And that trust is rewarded when he’s sat back up and Arthur turns him and gets some shampoo in his hair and it’s _Arthur’s_ and the hot water has it fragrant and overwhelming and John grips his knees tightly. 

Shuddering as Arthur’s fingers rub over his scalp, carefully detangle his hair. 

“Feels good,” John whispers and it’s more desperate this time. 

Arthur’s hands still in his hair and John presses his head back. 

“Hey,” Arthur whispers, “I’m not askin’ you for anythin’, you know that, right?”

“Can I ask?” John asks hoarsely. 

He hears Arthur swallow behind him then the fingers dig into his scalp and rub down his neck and John groans, letting his head fall back. 

“Not right now,” Arthur murmurs, “We gotta talk, later, yeah? Just… If it feels _good_ , that’s alright, but I’m not takin’ anythin’ from you right now.”

John nods lightly and taps his fingers on his kneecaps in absent, uncoordinated rhythms. 

\--

Arthur helps him out once he’s sparkling clean and loose and pliant and wraps a towel around John waist. 

Another over his hair, rubbing over the strands and squeezing lightly. 

“S’long,” Arthur says quietly, “Didn’t notice it’d grown so much.”

“Been… A year?” John says and he’s a bit shy, bringing his hand up and pinching the end of a strand hanging level with his chin. 

Arthur hums softly and dries John off and guides him into Arthur’s room and John just follows what he’s told to do. 

He’s a bit clearer, in the head, not so _heavy_ , not so _low_. 

But he’s tired, and Arthur’s taking such good care of him, he doesn’t care to protest. 

“You still cold?” Arthur asks and he’s digging through _his_ dresser. 

Pulling out _his_ own clothes for John to wear. 

“Lil’.”

“Mm,” Arthur opens a different drawer and holds up a sweatshirt, looking back at John and lifting it in question. 

John just nods, watching Arthur. 

And Arthur helps him dress in that sweatshirt and soft shorts, moves to the other side of the bed, turns down the covers. 

“You wanna get in?” Arthur asks quietly, “Settle down while I go get some stuff?”

“Food?” John murmurs and crawls into Arthur’s bed and God, this is strange. 

“Hungry now?” 

“Mm-hm, tired though.”

“I’ll get somethin’,” Arthur says and hands John the remote to the tv before petting over the younger man’s head. 

\--

“Sit up,” Arthur whispers into his ear and John wiggles closer, half sitting-up and half moving into the middle of the bed to rest against the older man who huffs quietly in amusement and lifts him up a bit more. 

Arthur’s clothes are gone besides his boxers.

Then there’s a mug under his face and John blinks open his eyes to squint at it, taking it and hugging it close. 

It’s hot chocolate and John sips on it slowly as Arthur adjust himself and moves to recline in the mess of pillows behind them and John takes a moment to weigh the option. 

Lowers himself as well and lays back against Arthur’s chest. 

The older man’s arm comes around him and squeezes him lightly. 

“Finish that,” Arthur says then drops a bag in John’s lap and there are two sandwiches inside, “‘Least one of those.”

John wrinkles his nose but then his stomach growls quietly and his cheeks flush. 

And Arthur doesn't mock him, tease him.

Arthur’s thumb just rubs over the cap of his shoulder, soft and soothing, and he’s already making good on his promise of keeping John warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/gwennolmarie)   
>  [horny twitter](https://www.twitter.com/swampslip)   
>  [tumblr](https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com)


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